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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26056510">One Fair(e) Day</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoddling/pseuds/theoddling'>theoddling</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and Crack, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Renaissance Faires, gender neutral reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:47:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,846</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26056510</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoddling/pseuds/theoddling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader, a born and raised Rennie, decides to take their favorite messed up superhero family to the best place in the world: a Renaissance Faire.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>(background) Diego Hargreeves/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Welcome to the Renaissance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>DISCLAIMER: ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ACTUAL SHOWS, EVENTS, OR PERSONS IS COINCIDENTAL AND/OR MEANT IN GOOD FUN</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So,” Klaus said, as you all stopped to one sunlit side of the broad, dirt road just inside the gates. He clutched your hand in both of his and looked somehow up at you despite being nearly a foot taller. “What, pray tell, does one do first at a renaissance faire?”</p><p>You giggled at the dramatically posh way he pronounced the word renaissance, swinging yourself out of his grip, with a swish of coattails and a jingle of the various loops, pouches, and frogs hanging from your belt,  to face the whole group. The Hargreeves (mostly Luther, Five, and, though you didn’t know it, Ben) watched you suspiciously as you struck your most piratical pose, one hand braced against a lamppost as if the mainmast of your ship.</p><p>“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to my own personal slice of paradise,” you declared, your natural theatrics and confidence drawing others into your little crowd beside the seven siblings. “We arrived at Gate. We have until the Closing Canon. That’s eight hours to do whatever. you. like.”</p><p>You punctuated each word with a quick swish of your free hand as your arm crossed your body and grinned, both in excitement and at the sound of your affected brogue (an accent that had taken years of training for working the circuit and which was now as easy to readopt as slipping on a favorite t-shirt).  </p><p>“There are games, shops, shows. Interact with the street people. Listen to music. Eat ridiculously sized hunks of meat. Drink mead or bee stings, but be careful because they pack a punch. If you don’t go see at least the joust, we can’t be friends anymore, but if you’re okay with that…” </p><p>You shrugged dismissively.</p><p>“Any questions?”</p><p>Vanya cautiously raised her hand like you were a tour guide on a middle school museum field trip.</p><p>“Yes, dear Vanya?”</p><p>“Will you help us decide? Or show us around?”</p><p>Your smile softened into a real one as you dropped your showman veneer. “Of course I will, if you want. I figured everyone would want to go off and do their own thing as it caught their eye, and I’ll flit about between y’all.”</p><p>“Y/N, you don’t have to just focus on us,” Allison interjected. “You should enjoy yourself too.”</p><p>“Don’t you get it? I’ll enjoy myself, no matter what I’m doing. I’m home and with the people I love the best in all the world. And by that I mean you people. Now, let’s get started!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Show Time (Vanya)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>What's a Renaissance Faire without Shakespeare and Sword-fighting?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So Vanya,” you said with a smile, gallantly offering her your right arm. “You seemed the most uncertain, so let us off together. What do you want to do?”</p><p>“Well, I don’t know. You made it all sound so interesting, I don’t know where to start…” she said hesitantly, walking beside you without taking your offered arm until you looked at her pointedly.</p><p>“Okay, step by step then. A show or shopping?”</p><p>She thought for a moment, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. “A show.”</p><p>“So then, let’s see what’s on the schedule.” You led her over to one of the signposts on which bright, colorfully blocked itineraries were tacked.</p><p>“Let’s see…the first show starts at quarter of…” you mumbled scanning the schedule and ruling out the kids story time and one of the less interesting musicians. “There’s a comedy show, and Irish pipe and drum band, leeching demo, or…beautiful women sword-fighting and reciting Shakespeare.”</p><p>You watched the way her eyes lit up at the last suggestion and smiled secretly.</p><p>“I mean, they all sound good,” she said with a shrug. “You’re the expert, why don’t you decide?”</p><p>You bit your tongue, holding back your thoughts on her insecurity and inability to make the choice for herself.</p><p>“Sword-fighting, it is, let’s go find the Dragon’s Mouth stage.”</p><p>You turned dramatically and she cracked a smile as she tried to keep up with your movements, the pair of you half-staggering off down the lane.</p><p>~</p><p>“Now, we need our Nurse…” one of the women called out, roaming through the crowd. “We need someone stern, commanding. Someone like…” she pointed at Vanya. “You!”</p><p>“Oh no,” Vanya stammered, “I can’t.”</p><p>“Come on. Don’t make me get the cheering, jeering crowd.”</p><p>She sighed, resigning herself to being led up to the stage as you clapped and grinned at her, her face bright red and steps shuffling.</p><p>“Okay, now you put this on,” they handed her a dramatic wimple which she dutifully swept her hair up into. “And then whenever we cue you like so,” the three women clapped and posed pointing at Vanya, “you say ‘No.’ Can you do that for us?”</p><p>She nodded meekly. The performers stared, still posed and pointing at her. A long, awkward silence settled over the stage. Finally, a look of realization dawned across her face.</p><p>“No,” she said firmly, placing her hands on her hips and adding a foot stomp for good measure, voice carrying over the crowd.</p><p>You couldn’t resist a wolf-whistle as the rest of the audience applauded politely and the rest of the act carried on. The further into the very abridged and far more fight-y version of Romeo and Juliet the women got, and the more volunteers they pulled up onto the stage, the more Vanya seemed to take to her role until by the end, you would have thought she was a professional.</p><p>You made sure to be one of the loudest cheering voices as they all took their bows. Vanya practically skipped down the stage steps and back to your side.</p><p>“That was so much fun!” she exclaimed. “I’ve never felt so…free!”</p><p>“Shakespeare, no matter the form, is the ultimate permission to be silly,” you heard someone say, and turning, the pair of you found one of the performers, the woman who’d been dressed all in blue, which made her long yellow hair stand out all the more, standing there, smiling.</p><p>“You were pretty good up there,” she continued, eyes shining as they roamed Vanya’s face. “You’re an actor aren’t you?”</p><p>“Oh, no,” Vanya shook her head, blushing and fiddling with the end of her hair. “I play the violin though. In an orchestra…”</p><p>“Oh! I love violin music!”</p><p>You raised your eyebrows with a smirk.</p><p>“I think you can take it from here, Vanya,” you said nudging her shoulder. I’ll see you later.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Of Corsets Sexy (Klaus)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next sibling you came upon was the most dramatic of them, and you grinned, excited to see what he might get into.</p><p>“Klaus!” you called, greeting him on one of the shopping throughways, pitching your voice dramatically like you’d just met in an inn after many years of adventuring apart.</p><p>“Y/N!” he cried back, equally dramatic and excited, throwing his arms up and open wide.</p><p>“Where did you leave Vanya?” he asked as you two embraced.</p><p>“Awakening a new side of herself with Shakespearean sword-fighting women.”</p><p>“Oh you are naughty! I love it,” he snickered.</p><p>“So what trouble are you up to, dear Klaus?”</p><p>“I want it to be a surprise. I’ll meet you over at that table,” Klaus pointed across the way at one of the picnic tables by the pub tent and you rolled your eyes, nodding in agreement rather than wasting your breath arguing.</p><p>You had just taken a sip of your drink, the sweet tang of the mead coating your tongue pleasingly when Klaus emerged from the booth and you choked, feeling the alcohol burn a path up your nose and flood your lungs. Coughing, you bent double and tried to regain your breath as he sauntered over, grinning like a cat who’d gotten the canary.</p><p>He had traded his brightly colored top for something more…scandalous, if akin to what many other people were wearing. The corset was black brocade, with lace trimming and red bead embellishments like droplets of blood. It hugged close to his figure without creating an unnatural shape, a credit to whomever had laced him into it.</p><p>“Well?” he drawled, smirking.</p><p>When you finally recovered, you nodded, lips pressed together and eyebrows raised.</p><p>“It’s…um…yeah…” you floundered. “Uh…ah…a look. G-g-good…good look. Was definitely not expecting that.”</p><p>“Aw, Y/N. Do I take your breath away? What will Diego have to say about that?”</p><p>You shot him a glare and he giggled.</p><p>“If you’re done trying to kill me,” you pouted. “What do you want to do now?”</p><p>“Finish this drink and then go show off,” he said, picking up your mead and chugging about half of it before you could warn him.</p><p>He grimaced as the pressure from the carbon dioxide and fermentation settled into his gut and fought the tightness of the corset.</p><p>“Ow!” he whined. “Why is this delicious alcohol betraying me?”</p><p>“Slow sips, small bites, bend at the hips, and don’t breathe from the diaphragm. I could have told you that if you had asked instead of stealing my drink.” You smugly plucked the plastic cup out of his hand and took another sip.</p><p>~</p><p>“Excuse me!” A voice called out from the crowd and you sighed, recognizing it immediately as the Constable. “Sir! You are in violation of the laws of the realm!”</p><p>The short sandy-haired man seemed to materialize out of nowhere, hands planted firmly on his hips as he blocked Klaus’s path.</p><p>“What?” he asked, eyes wide in genuine concern that he was about to get kicked off the fairgrounds.</p><p>“You failed to stop at the designated point,” the Constable said, pointing to the little wooden sign, almost hidden among the rocks of the path.</p><p>“Oh! My deepest apologies,” Klaus grinned flirtatiously. “How ever can I make it up to you?”</p><p>You struggled to contain your eyeroll at the antics that were about to ensue. The Constable had been a staple act of the faire since you were a child, with his little wooden stop sign and ticket book. Some years, including this one, he brought “the criminal court” as a stage show which involved increasingly ludicrous punishments such as having to sing “I’m a little teapot” before the crowd or having ten people selected to shame you with Shakespearean insults, culminating in one unlucky soul being selected for the dunk tank. The more you tried to get out of your ticket, the more likely it was that you were going to be the one getting wet. And as amusing as it would be, you did not look forward to Klaus’s complaints of chaffing from his new corset and his leather pants afterward.</p><p>“Are you attempting to bribe an officer of the law?” the Constable snapped, drawing your attention back to the pair.</p><p>“Bribe? No, never! I was really aiming more for seduce,” Klaus purred, raising an eyebrow and shimmying in his new attire.</p><p>The Constable pressed his lips together and tutted, dramatically shaking his head, before whipping out his quill and pad.</p><p>“Failure to stop at stop sign, attempting to evade, excessive jubilation, knavery, consorting with ruffians,” he gestured at you vaguely before returning to checking off the boxes on the ticket. “Public indecency – St. George be praised, put on a shirt, man – and other, insincere flirtation and attempts at charm.”</p><p>He tore the little paper off of his pad and handed it to Klaus who stared down at it in confusion.</p><p>“If I see any other lawbreaking from you, I’ll be forced to have you arrested and dragged before the court at three and thirty. You may also appear there if you wish to contest any of the charges on your ticket. Good day sir.”</p><p>With a tip of his hat, the Constable vanished back into the crowd.</p><p>Bewildered, Klaus turned to you, holding the ticket vaguely in one hand.</p><p>“What…just happened?” he asked.</p><p>You giggled. “You got Constable’d. It happens to the best of us. Dressed as you are, he pegged you as someone who’d play along, and maybe draw in a few people to the show if they see you up on stage.”</p><p>“Oh…”</p><p>“So are you going to?”</p><p>“To what?”</p><p>“Contest your charges? It’s a fun show, and I know you love the attention.” You smiled teasingly at him.</p><p>“How dare you! Just for that, I think I will. And I’ll say that you forced me into it, and I’m just a poor innocent boy.” He flashed his best puppy-dog eyes.</p><p>“Save it for the jury, Hargreeves.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Properly Garbed (Diego)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You felt a familiar arm slide around your waist and smiled, leaning slightly into the touch.</p><p>“Alright, well I need to make sure…everyone else ever sees how incredible I look,” Klaus said gesturing at his new outfit. “So I’m going to go and I’ll see you at whatever time this thing was.” He waved the ticket before crumpling up and shoving down the front of the corset.</p><p>“Three-thirty,” you said patiently. “And I would put that in the bag with your shirt instead. Unless you’d like streaks of ink on your chest for the next…forever, that stuff lasts forever when it stains.”</p><p>“Whatever,” he said with a shrug.</p><p>“You two have fun!” he wiggled his fingers in a wave over his head as he wandered off and you giggled when you noticed him pull the ticket back out as soon as he thought he wasn’t in sight anymore.</p><p>“What was that?” Diego asked, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.</p><p>“Klaus,” you said, as if that were the obvious and only answer (and to be honest it probably was). “So what have you been up to so far?”</p><p>He shrugged and you stepped away from him to turn, intending to give him a faux-lecture about how the whole point of being at the faire was to do things. Instead, you took one look at him and led him over to a shady, grassy patch to sit.</p><p>“You look like shit,” you said sternly. “I told you to dress light and cool, not in a turtleneck and all black.”</p><p>He stubbornly refused to meet your eyes.</p><p>“You’re going to overheat like that Diego…”</p><p>“I’m fine. And it’s too late to do anything about it now.”</p><p>You handed him the water flask from your hip, watching as he guzzled it dry, shaking your head in disappointment.</p><p>“Well actually…” You held out your hand to pull him back to his feet. “Do you trust me?”</p><p>He smiled softly at you, taking the offered assistance. “Of course I do Y/N. Although with that look I’m not sure I should…”</p><p>You grinned almost manically back at him. “Perfect. That was everything I needed to hear. Follow me.”</p><p>~</p><p>“Amy!” you smiled, hugging your green-haired friend. “Just the gal I was looking for. I have here with me a very dumb boy. Who needs help not sweating to death and will therefore comply with whatever we tell him.”</p><p>“Hey! I never agreed to…” Diego started to protest, shutting his mouth with a sigh when he saw your determined glare.</p><p>“I’ll take it from here,” Amy said, hooking her arm through Diego’s and leading him into the large canvas tent. “You wait there, Y/N, so it can be a surprise!” her sing-song voice called back.</p><p>You felt a tiny twinge of guilt dumping Diego into her capable hands without warning, but the rest of you knew it was for the best, and was excited to see the result.</p><p>Twenty minutes later, he emerged from the tent looking like an entirely new man. He was dressed in a loose-fitting Viking-style tunic, soft, sky-like blue with maroon and black embroidered trim and a pair of thin, maroon linen pants. A braided rope belt tied around his waist and trailing down completed the look, but for his usual boots, which in honesty did not look that out of place in a pinch.</p><p>“Well I’ll be damned,” you said, unapologetically oogling the man in front of you.</p><p>“Is that,” you gasped dramatically, “color? Who are you and what have you done with Diego?”</p><p>He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment and staring down at his feet.</p><p>“She told me I h-had to come show you and she wouldn’t give me my clothes back until I did.”</p><p>“Well, duh. Because you look incredible. You’re buying that, or I’m buying it for you. I don’t care, someone’s buying it and you’re wearing it. For one thing, it’s light and breezy and comfortable for the middle of August. And for another, it is an incredibly sexy look.”</p><p>His head jerked up to stare at you.</p><p>“What? I think you’re sexy anyway. I just…really like Viking Diego. Or maybe it’s the poofy pants. Can’t go wrong with a good poof.”</p><p>You flicked at your own very pirate-y pants as if in demonstration, making them ripple slightly with the motion.</p><p>“You’re ridiculous, Y/N,” he said, shaking his head.</p><p>But when you stepped toward him, draping your arms over his neck and standing on your tip-toes to kiss the corner of his mouth, you felt him practically melt into your touch.</p><p>“Please get the outfit?” you whispered, and he sighed, defeated.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I really like dressing people up, but I promise this is the last chapter of it.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What do you get when you lock a rennie/writer in quarantine and take away all the faires for a year? This apparently.<br/>I just wanted to write something fun and silly and use it as a character study for the various Hargreeves siblings.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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